


Limbless

by mozzarellastyx



Series: Spideypool Drabbles [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Deadpool - Freeform, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Regeneration, Smut, Spider-Man - Freeform, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozzarellastyx/pseuds/mozzarellastyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade manages to lose all four of his limbs. Peter helps him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limbless

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://www.babyseaotter.tumblr.com) if u have a prompt for spideypool :-)

“Deadpool?”

Peter hasn’t seen the red-tighted idiot in a while and, more surprisingly, hasn’t heard him either.

He swings around the building he’s anchored to, kicking the stupid robot on steroids he’s been fighting square in the jaw, sending him flying backwards into the street. He winces at the loud thud when he lands. That’s gonna leave a dent.

“Deadpool?”

He ties the robot up with webbing and scales the building he’d just been swinging from, leaping from roof to roof trying to find his stupid boyfriend.

He finds him in the middle of the street, lying in a pool of his own blood. Which wouldn’t have been so surprising on normal terms, but Peter had set him out on the task of simply clearing the area of civilians so, yeah, this is a bit unexpected.

He lands by his side, hitting the ground in the squat position that Wade always makes fun of him for. Peter expected it to rouse at least a small reaction from him, but Wade says nothing.

“Deadpool,” Peter says again, and it’s then that he realizes that Wade’s missing something: limbs. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“Two…robots,” Wade sputters, coughing up blood.

Peter looks up just in time to see a robot arm swinging right at him. He ducks, rolling Wade to the curb to get him out of the way. He groans, but Peter ignores that as he shimmies up the side of the nearest building, trying to get some height on the dumb hunk of metal.

“How many of you are there?” He asks, dodging retractable arms and shooting webs like a mad man. It’s more of a rhetorical question, as he knows the things don’t talk, but he can’t help it; he gets a little mouthy when he’s fighting.

If there’s any good side to the situation, it’s that Wade—shockingly enough—actually did his job of clearing the area before managing to lose all four of his limbs to a computer that’s probably running Windows Vista. Peter hops from building to building, shooting webs and trying to tangle the guy up like he’d done with his brother.

But this one must be a little smarter because his arms stop reaching for Peter and start targeting Wade. And Peter, well, Peter’s not gonna take that.

He takes a more hands on approach, leaping onto the robot’s back and holding on by the neck joint. It stumbles, confused by the weight on its back. Peter dodges arms as he attempts to rip off the metal plating. It’s soldered on pretty tight, however, and Peter can’t get it to budge.

He sees another robot arm shoot out towards Wade, and in a furious rage Peter starts punching the damn thing, denting metal as he hits it over and over again, arm going numb. After enough punches it starts twitching, and Peter can smell smoke from the wires underneath the metal. The robot stops moving altogether, and Peter has just enough time to jump off of it before the thing tumbles to the ground, creating a crater in the asphalt just as the other had.

Peter’s panting and sweating under his mask as he crawls towards Wade.

“What…what happened?” Peter asks, hauling Wade up onto his shoulder. He’s much lighter without, you know, arms and legs. Still has that big head, though.

“Lady…wouldn’t get out of her car,” Wade coughs. “Had to help her.”

“Wait wait wait,” Peter stops him. “You did something selfless? Are you sure this is my Deadpool?”

“Yeah, and look at what it got me,” Wade pouts, gesturing with the remainder of his arms.

Peter chuckles. He’s tired, like really beat, and the extra weight of Wade isn’t really helping, but they’re almost home. Just a few blocks more.

“You looked…hot…beating the shit out of…that robot.”

Peter snorts. “Only you would think that, Wade.”

“I’m—” he coughs, “I’m serious! Didn’t know you were…so fiery.”

Peter shakes his head, kicking open their apartment door. He dumps Wade on the couch. There’s a reason he decided to put a plastic cover on it, and it’s because 9/10 times they come home one—or both—of them is bleeding.

“I’m taking a shower,” Peter tells him, pulling off his mask.

“What about me?” Wade whines.

“You can shower when your limbs grow back,” Peter tells him, shaking his head and shutting the bathroom door.

A shower is exactly what Peter needed. He lets the hot water wash away all the blood and grime, watching it swirl down the drain. The heat relaxes the tension in his muscles, lets him breathe again.

Once he’s done, he throws on a t-shirt and some sweatpants and heads back to the living room to see how Wade’s regeneration is going. He expected to see some creepy little hands, but he did not expect to see them wrapped around his dick.

Wade’s desperate eyes light up when he sees Peter.

“Peter,” he whines. “I thought my tiny hands would make my dick look bigger—which, they kind of do—but they’re not doing anything.”

Peter snorts, sitting down next to him. “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Except he knows exactly what Wade wants him to do about it.

“I want you to go get Tina from across the hall,” Wade tells him. “She’s been giving me eyes all week.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter sighs, batting away Wade’s miniscule fingers to replace them with his own.

Wade lets out a moan of relief. “Much better.”

“Is it?” Peter asks, pushing himself closer to Wade and cocking an eyebrow. He uses just his thumb to circle the slit, watching Wade’s abs twitch under his suit.

Wade’s eyes flicker up to Peter’s. “You’re not really gonna—”

“Tease you?” Peter wonders with innocent eyes, stroking a single finger up his shaft. “Of course not.”

“Really?” Wade groans. “After all I’ve been through today?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter says, tongue swiping out to wet his lip.

“Wish that thing had cut off my junk,” he mutters, sucking in a breath when Peter gives him a full-handed tug.

“No you don’t.”

“I know.”

Peter drags a nail up the thick vein along Wade’s cock, eliciting a low and pained groan from deep in Wade’s throat.

“Christ,” he pants, smacking Peter’s hand away and using both of his tiny hands in a desperate attempt to get himself off.

Peter peels back Wade’s mask, tossing it over the back of the sofa before planting a soft kiss to Wade’s jaw.

“It’s not working,” Wade whines, desperation evident in his voice.

“It isn’t?” Peter murmurs, rubbing his nose against the underside of Wade’s jaw.

“Fuck,” Wade groans, tilting his head back. “Peter. You’re not being fair.”

Peter brushes his lips against Wade’s ear, smiling when it makes the boy shiver. “How so?”

“Well, let’s see: you have hands and I don’t, and you’re not using your hands on my dick.”

“You want me to get you off? Is that it?”

Wade opens his mouth for a snarky remark, but Peter starts sucking on the sensitive skin of Wade’s neck, and suddenly Wade can’t speak, just lets out a breathy moan.

“Peter,” he chokes. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Peter.” It’s nearly a growl this time, but by the looks of it he’s close to tears.

“Okay,” Peter sighs, moving Wade’s hands again so he can wrap his own fingers around him, stroking with more determination.

“Oh, god,” Wade moans, dropping his head back.

Peter leans up to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses all over Wade’s mutilated face. There’s the saltiness of tears under his tongue. It’s been a while since Peter drove him to desperate crying, but they’ve both had a long day.

“Let go,” Peter murmurs into Wade’s ear, kissing the lobe.

Another reason they have a plastic cover on their couch is because of moments like this, where Wade’s come shoots all over his suit and on the couch cushions beside him. Peter strokes him through it, urging him to get it all out. As Wade’s moans turn into pants, Peter presses a soft kiss to his neck.

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Wade sighs dreamily, relaxing further into the couch.

“You know, sometimes I think you purposely lose your limbs,” Peter mentions, searching for the remote and finding it wedged between two cushions.

“What can I say,” Wade shrugs. “I love to be taken care of. Luckily I have a housewife like you that’ll cook for me and clean for me and suck my dick for me.”

Peter snorts, snuggling into his side.

“But I think you should be glad I’ve got no limbs right now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when they grow back, I’m definitely making you pay for all of that teasing.”

Peter rolls his eyes. 

He can’t wait.


End file.
